


You Want a Revolution, I Want a Roommate

by orphan_account



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roomates, Developing Relationship, Eventual Fluff, Fluff, Hamilton really likes Laurens hair, Lams - Freeform, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Pining, Work In Progress, friendship fluff, revolutionary crew is a big bunch of dorks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-07-21 22:53:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 5,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7408429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hamilton moves in with Laurens and Lafayette. Romance and Shenanigans ensue. </p><p> </p><p>Title subject to change. </p><p>Have fun with yet another College AU fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Apartment For Rent**

**3 bed/ 1 bath**

**Two Roommates**

**Contact Aaron Burr For Details**

**A.Burr@Gmail.com**

 

* * *

 

 **[To:** [ **A.Burr@gsnail.com** ](mailto:A.Burr@gmail.com) **]**

 **[From:** [ **A.Ham@gsnail.com** ](mailto:A.Ham@gmail.com) **]**

**SENT: August 3rd , 4:33 am**

**_I’m interested in your apartment posting. I'm just starting college here as a Junior, and I've lived in the West Indies for my entire life. Which means I need a place to stay year round. This apartment is currently my best option, and I hope to hear back soon. Thank you, Alexander Hamilton._ **

* * *

 

 **[To:** [ **A.Ham@gsnail.com** ](mailto:A.Ham@gmail.com) **]**

 **[From:** [ **A.Burr@gsnail.com** ](mailto:A.Burr@gmail.com) **]**

**SENT: August 4th, 3:44 PM**

**_Thank you for your interest. Be glad to talk more about it. My phone number is: 123-456-7899._ **

* * *

 

**Voicemail: 987-654-3210: August 6th at 6:36 AM**

“This is Alexander Hamilton, the person interested in your apartment posting? You said call with questions, only I got your voicemail. Sorry if I caught you at a bad time, but I'm really just ensuring you know exact how interested I am. Call me back at your earliest convenience. Thank you!

* * *

 

 **Voicemail: August 6th at 4:35 PM from** **_123-456-7899_ **

“It's Aaron Burr. The apartment is yours if you want it. Expect an email with information on your roommates and payment.”

* * *

 

 **[To:** [ **A.Ham@gsnail.com** ](mailto:A.Ham@gmail.com) **]**

 **[From:** [ **A.Burr@gsnail.com** ](mailto:A.Burr@gmail.com) **]**

**SENT: August 6th, 4:55**

**_Since you are out of town, pay_ ** [ **_J.Laurens.76@gsnail.com_ ** ](mailto:J.Laurens.76@gsnail.com) **_first and last month's rent online  by the 15th. I will be moving out on the 20th, so your roommates contact info is:_**  

 ** _John Laurens:_** [**_Laurens.76@gsnail.com_**](mailto:J.Laurens.76@gsnail.com)

**_777-888-999_**

**_Gilbert (Lafayette) du Motier:_ ** [ **_Americasfavefigtingfrenhman@gsnail.com_ ** ](mailto:Americasfavefigtingfrenhman@gsnail.com)

**_111-232-323_ **

**_Contact them with any further questions, as I will no longer be living with in that apartment._**

* * *

 

**_< From: John Laurens>_ **

_This is John Laurens, your future roommate. Laf (your other roomie) and I think we should set up a time to video chat. Get to know each other._

 

 _ < _ **To: John Laurens >**

_Sounds good to me. I'd like to know all that cannot be found from stalking you on Facebook_

 

**< To: John Laurens>**

_Totally kidding. I don't like Facebook. I'm free Sat. and Sun. nights._

 

**< From: John Laurens>**

_Now the disclaimer makes me feel guilty for Facebook stalking you. Laf and I are good for Sunday. 7:00 ish?_

 

**< To: John Laurens>**

_7:00 works. I apologize for my Facebook page._

 

**< From: John Laurens>**

_Idk. I think you're kinda cute._

 

**< To: John Laurens>**

_Wrong page. :)_

 

**< From: John Laurens>**

**_[Image Attachment]_ ** _This you?_

 

**< To: John Laurens>**

_Yes…_

 

**< From: John Laurens>**

_Like I said. Cute._

 

* * *

 

**Call Begins 7:03 - Sunday August 10th**

“Hello?” Hamilton asked, staring at an empty couch.

 

“Bonjour!” A body flopped onto the couch. His broad face was split into a wide grin. “You must be Alexander, no?”

 

“Oui, Je suis Alexander, ou Alex, ou même Hamilton.” ¹

 

“un homme avec beaucoup de noms est un homme d' après mon propre cœur.”²

 

“Laf!” a voice shouted from off screen. “Are you seriously flirting already?! You've known him for thirty seconds!”

 

“Don't be a 'ippocrate John Laurens. I read those texts, don't tell me you _weren't_ flirting.”

 

Laurens flopped over the back of the couch, playfully rebutting Lafayette. His whole face was crinkled into a grin, eyes dancing. Laurens hair was 

Hot damn, Hamilton was exploding out of the back of his head, bouncing in cjrjky waves as he animatedly argued with Lafayette. 

 

In summary, Hamilton was totally, completely, fucked. 

“I am sorry for his flirting,” Lafayette  was saying. “John here is shamelessly gay. Unless you ask his father. Then he's as straight as a new ruler.”

Wait. What? Cute future roomie was gay? His excitement at actually having a chance was masked by the frustration emerging in John's features. 

“Lafayette!!” John yelped. “You know I hate you outing me like that! Not everyone is as comfortable as you, okay?”

“It was something Alex needed to know! If he's going to live with us…

“Look,” Hamilton interrupted their argument. “Laf is right. That is grounds we should cover.” He glance at Lafayette.  “But in our own time. In our own way.”

Both men on the screen nodded

Lafayette apologized.

“I'll start." Hamilton said.  "He/him, bisexual.” He chanced a wink at Laurens 

 

“He/him” John said. “Homosexual.” And winked back, Hamilton felt his knees go out. 

“He/him, for now." Lafayette said." Bisexual.”

Hamilton sighed. “Now. I've known you asshats for five minutes, and already I'm mediating.”

“You see why Burr left?” Laurens asked.

“I thought it was because we kept holding private conversations about him in French.” Lafayette laughed. “

Ce ne sera pas un problème pour notre nouveau colocataire maintenant il sera?”³

“No. No it will not.”

**Call Ends: 1:34 - Monday August 11th**

* * *

 

 _ < _ **To: John Laurens >**

_My flight lands at 12:00 am on the 22. Should be at the apartment around 12:30-1ish._

 

**< From: John Laurens>**

_How are you getting upstate?_

 

 _ < _ **To: John Laurens >**

_Taxi/Uber_

 

**< From: John Laurens>**

_Hell no. Laf and I'll pick u up. L. Guardia right? What airline._

 

 _ < _ **To: John Laurens >**

_Uber is fine, really._

**_<_ From: John Laurenss>**

_What. Airline._

**< To: John Laurens>**

_Delta_

**< From: John Laurens>**

_Thanks. See you then, lovely._


	2. Chapter 2

In true Hamilton fashion, everything that could have gone wrong did. Both flights were delayed, the TSA were more strict than ever, and customs was a bitch. Then, to top it all off his phone died in the middle of a heated Twitter debate.

 

So, here he was, an hour behind schedule, crouched over the only outlet in baggage claim. He pressed his phone against his ear, praying that Laurens would pick up.

 

“Hey Alex. You land yet?” Laurens answered and Alex could have died in relief.

“Yeah, I’m in baggage claim hunched over an outlet. Phone died.”

 

“That's okay. Laf and I are sitting in the overpriced Airport coffee shop. Want us to find you, or…”

 

“I have more bags than limbs.”

 

Laurens laughed, “Alright. What are you wearing?”

 

“John!” Hamilton admonished. “Really?!”

 

“I didn’t mean it like that!” Then more faintly: “You stop laughing Lafayette! I'll tell Hamilton about you and your relationship with the word anal, I swear to god. ”

 

“What! Now you _have_ to tell me.”

 

“I will in the car, I swear. But I need to find you first.”

 

“I’m the weird kid in the corner of Baggage Claim #4 in a palace of duffle bags." He blushed. "I'm also wearing a 'say hi if you're bi’ shirt.”

 

Laurens laughed again, loud and long. It made  Hamilton wish he had recorded this conversation so he could hear that laugh over and over. And the whole “what are you wearing” thing.

This man would be the death of him.

 

That was even without seeing him in person. As soon as he saw Lauren's wading through the crowd of people he knew he had a problem.  

 

The first thing he noticed was the hair. Laurens hair moved even more in person, especially as it wasn't in a ponytail. No, it was just this messy mob flying out of the back of his head as he ran to greet Hamilton. 

He didn't  _mean_ to notice how soft Laurens hair was, but here they were, wrapped in a tight embrace. It would be criminal to not bury his hands in it. 

 

They pulled apart far too soon. 

 

“Mon Ami!” Lafayette called, kissing both cheeks. “So good to see you in person.”

 

“You too,” Hamilton said blushing. “God. I still can't believe I'm actually here.”

 

“New York makes you a new man,” Lafayette said. “Nobody knows that better than me.”  

  

* * *

 

 

    The drive upstate was companionable, a weird mix of talking and listening to music. It was the first _real_ time they could just relax and get to know each other, In person anyway.

 

    Lafayette gave Hamilton shotgun, to “better admire the view.” Hamilton wasn’t sure if the view was out the window, or the man next to him. After all the windows were rolled  down Hamilton didn't care which one Lafayette meant. It was impossible not to watch the blowing hair, and the animated face. 

 

    “You hungry?” Lauren's shouted over the radio, and the sound of rushing air. “Because we’re close to the best goddamn pub on campus.”

 

    “I could eat!” Hamilton shouted back.

 

    “Want me to text Hercules to meet us? He’s dying to meet our new roommate.” Lafayette shouted.

 

    Laurens rolled up the windows. “That good with you Alex?”

 

    “What?” Hamilton asked, wondering why on earth Lauren's using his nickname prompted such a reaction. Lafayette had called him Alex a half dozen times since they met. But Laurens voice wrapped around the name was different. A good sort of different. 

 

    Linner, as Lafayette insisted on calling it, was fantastic. Mulligan fit right in with Laurens and Lafayette. The three of them were the most invested, determined men that Hamilton had ever met. (Besides himself, of course.) All three of them were determined to make a change. All three of them fell in love with Hamilton’s motto: they were not going to  throw away their shot at this.

 

    Linner ended way quicker than any of them wanted it to. As the conversation entered deeper and deeper into politics, the four of them got louder and louder. Eventually, as the dinner rush came in, the waiter asked them politely to leave.

 

So the four of them spilled into the warm August air, still loudly shouting about the Black Lives Matter movement. And as they stumbled, laughing, to their cars, Hamilton took a moment to appreciate this. That he had made it, and had fallen in with the best crowd he could’ve hoped for.

 

Especially as he watched Laurens desperately card his curly hair out of his face to quip back at Lafayette in French. He didn’t catch _exactly_ what it meant, but he assumed it had to do with the sexual promiscuity of his mother, based on the last two words.

 

“Mulligan!” Hamilton shouted out the passenger window. “Meet us back at our apartment. I could use all the unpacking help I could get.”

 

His heart warmed at the sound of ‘our’ apartment. He was here, in America. He was here, making a home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, not all chapters will be the social media kind. 
> 
> Thank you for all the comments, and kudos. They never fail to make my day!


	3. Chapter 3

The apartment was, well, exactly what one would expect from a handful of broke college students. Outdated appliances, and mismatched secondhand furniture crowded the tiny living room and kitchen. 

Hamilton couldn't have cared any less. This place, in its cheap, slightly mildewed glory, was perfect. It was, or soon would be, his home. And he had already fallen in love with the place. 

He would have cried. He would've, had he not caught the amused expression in Laurens’ eye. 

He was just standing there, or rather, leaning on the back of the couch watching Hamilton take in the apartment. 

“So, you actually like this shithole?” 

Hamilton snorted. “If you think this is shitty, should've seen where I grew up. I'm just glad for a bedroom to myself and a decent wifi connection.” 

It was Laurens turn to laugh. “We’ve got that, but not much else. The place is pretty crappy, but it's good enough to call home.” He kicked affectionately at the leg of the couch. 

They both turned as Lafayette burst through the front door, Mulligan close behind; both hauling the last of Hamilton's luggage. 

“This going in Burr’s old room?” Mulligan asked as he kicked off his shoes. 

“Oui,” Lafayette picked up his share of the luggage again, “Mon dieu Alexander, what did you pack?” 

Hamilton laughed. “You got the one with all my books, sorry.” 

“You should be.” Lafayette passed the bag onto Laurens. 

“Laf what the fuck?”

“I carried that up three flights of stairs. It's your turn.” 

Lauren's rolled his eyes as he shifted the bag into a more comfortable position. “C’mon Hamilton, I'll show you to your room.” 

Hamilton followed, admiring the way Laurens’ muscles bulged, and moved under the tight fabric of his shirt. 

 

With the unpacking finished, the four men were now lounging in the living room. The T.V was on, but nobody was paying attention. 

“You guys ever thought that CSI is like Blues Clues for adults?” Laurens asked, still staring at his phone. 

“I saw that three tweets ago, John,” Lafayette said. “It wasn't funny then.”

Hamilton cackled; “You know, a fish tank is basically a submarine. For fish.”

“Pregnant woman is a human submarine,” Mulligan said, heading for the kitchen. “Anyone want anything to drink?” 

“I'll take a beer if you have any,” Hamilton said, not looking up from his phone. Not witnessing the looks of pure astonishment from Mulligan and Laurens. 

“You're 19!” Mulligan yelped. “No unferage drinking on my watch.”

“I’m 20! How is that —? Oh. Yeah, right. So it's not good if I have some beer in my closet? They were meant to be a gift, but I can just…”

“No,” Lauren's said. “No, no, no, no. It's fine, Dad here” he glared at Mulligan. “Is just picky.” 

“So do you want me to go get my present?” Hamilton asked. “Because I've been told that American alcohol is shit.” 

“It is.” Lafayette said. “Especially their wine.”

Hamilton was already halfway to his room, laughing as Laurens called Lafayette a stereotype in French. 

“What did I say about the French?” was the last thing he heard before he was out of earshot. 

Hamilton paused for a moment before re-emerging from his bedroom. This was the life he had always coveted. Friends, a stable home, an education. This, here, was his dream; his shot at a better life. 

No way in hell was he going to mess this up.


	4. Chapter 4

This was it. Hamilton's big break, his shot to have a life, get an education, and make a difference. He was here; he was living it. He was making friends, learning, studying and.

And. Well. Maybe the friend thing wasn't exactly true. Sure, the people in his classes were more than cordial. Some could be considered a kind of friend.

Burr was certainly considered as one among his roommates, but he didn't talk to Hamilton much. He let Hamilton talk, then cut him off with this sly grin.

“Talk less, Hamilton. Makes you so a bit more appealing.”

And would wander away.

Besides, his roommates were a distraction enough. Lafayette and Laurens were always dragging him all over the place.

$4 Movie Fridays, and Intramural Baseball, the LGBTQ+ Alliance, and if he's that interested in government get a petition on Student Council.

Hamilton was living the life. Head down, bustling from one week to the next. He barely had time for much in his life, around part time food service, school, studying, and the extra curriculars.

There was always time, however, to drop-in on the ever constant, ever witty, text conversations.

_**John (the cute one) Laurens changed the thread name: Revolution Bros** _

_**Lafayette changed the thread name: Viva la Revolution!** _

_**Hamilton changed the thread name: Revolutionary Crew.** _

 

_< From: John Laurens>_

That's really good.

_ <To: John(the cute one) Laurens, Lafayette, Zero2Hero>_

Thanks. What's w/ the Revolution theme anyway?

_< From: Lafayette>_

Washington (boss man) is in another tirade against the Dean. Won't let him leave tenure yet won’t fix anything.

_ <To: John(the cute one) Laurens, Lafayette, Zero 2Hero>_

_Washington faculty?_

_< From: Lafayette>_

Yes. Why?

_ <To: John(the cute one) Laurens, Lafayette, Zero2Hero>_

Think he'd back me running for S.Council? More student control. Lessen tuition.

_< From: John (the cute one) Laurens_

Pretty sure he'd make out with you if you were willing to go on the front lines like that.

_ <From: Lafayette>_

He's already got a bunch like that. I was one before I became his secretary.

_ <To: John(the cute one) Laurens, Lafayette, Zero2Hero>_

You're a secretary? Can I buy you a pencil skirt?

_< From: Laurens>_

Lafayette & I are legal secretary. For Washington’s real lawyer job. And I would totally wear the skirt if Lafayette doesn't stake a claim.

  _< From: Lafayette>_

Plz tell me you're high.

  _< Zero2Hero>_

Laurens is sitting right next to me in class. Pay attention and don’t dare ask me for notes Ltr.

* * *

 

 

So yes, life was good. Life was becoming routine, something Hamilton didn't mind falling into.

The routine was his life. School, work, home, study. Eat somewhere in the middle. Repeat the next day. It was good. It was easy.

And it was weird when the routine was suddenly broken.

* * *

 

It was Wednesday morning. The one morning a week he could sleep in. No early morning waiter shifts, no classes. No nothing. He didn't have anything till well after 10:00.

And it was magical.

Until someone knocked on his door at 6:15 in the morning, hollering at Hamilton to get up. And then the door opens, ever so slightly.

“You hear me?” and oh shit, it was Lauren's, curly mass of hair yet to be untamed by the usual ponytail.

“How could I not?” Hamilton groaned. “What do you want?”

“I talked to Washington. Or, rather, Lafayette talked to Washington. He wants to see you today. I'm heading in now and I was wondering if you wanted a ride?”

“Yeah,” Hamilton started to scramble out of bed. He froze, halfway out. “I’ll, uh, just be out in a minute.”

“Okay, I'll make you some coffee.” He left, shutting the door behind him.

Hamilton scrambled out of bed, and began digging through his closet searching for something nicer than jeans and a T-shirt. He knew he had interview clothes in here somewhere.

The door opened again, and once again Hamilton froze, still half bent over in his closet.

“Oh shit.” Which was right. Lauren's was back stating at Hamilton's minimally clothed backside.

Hamilton tried to play it cool, turning around and forcing out a laugh. “Way to go. What do you need.”

“I wanted to tell you to” he paused, face red, brain obviously working a mile a minute. Nice clothes.” He cleared his throat and was gone.

Hamilton emerged a few minutes later, clad in khakis and a button down.

“This fancy enough?” Hamilton asked, spinning. “The khakis are small, they really weren't kidding about the freshman fifteen.”

“It’s, uh, it's good.” Lauren's said, passing him a coffee mug. “Go in fifteen?”

“Lafayette coming?”

“No, he's going to school today.”

“Okay. I'm good to go.”

He slid into a seat at the kitchen, alter sting between Twitter, and Lauren's bustling around the kitchen.

He was so domestic, fluttering around gathering work papers, a sketchbook. Giving Hamilton a bagel, eating his own as he ran around getting ready for work.

The last thing he grabbed was his legs, and gestured to the door. “Ready?”


	5. Chapter 5

6:15 could not possibly have been a time where normal people functioned. Certainly not Hamilton, not even with half a cup of coffee in his system. He felt dead to the world, huddled in the passenger seat of Lauren's car unable to think, only able to drink coffee and try not to fall asleep. 

That and watch Laurens in his adorable morning driving routine. From the muttered swear words to the coffee chugging at red lights. The best part was Laurens’ ‘morning bump up’ playlist. The weird selection of music that he sang to at the top of his lungs. 

He caught Hamilton’s sceptical glance and turned down the music, “What? It’s keeping me awake.” 

Hamilton snorted, “It’s not the singing. It’s the music collection, Adele and ZZ Top?” 

“Both really good artists,” Laurens protested. “Who says they can’t be in the same playlist? Especially because they’re both really fun to sing along to.” Laurens grabbed Hamilton’s hand off the console at the next red light, dramatically belting out Someone Like You. 

Hamilton’s mind froze, all input coming from one hand. The hand held in Laurens soft, yet firm grasp. The hand held clutched in Laurens, warm and soft, and squeezing along to the beat of the song. It took him a long time to comprehend he was laughing, at the squeezing, and the dramatic face and falsetto. At the look, and the pure happiness in Laurens eyes as he stared Hamilton down. 

“Nevermind I’ll find someone li-” a car honked. “Shit! Greenlight!” Without looking away, or letting go of Hamilton’s hand, he hit the gas and shot through the intersection. 

It was a loss when Laurens hand wrapped around the wheel once more. Missing it, Hamilton wrapped his hand around his coffee mug, trying to commit every second of that moment; every inch of Laurens hand. 

He barely registered it when they pulled into a parking spot in front of a dilapidated office building. On the bottom was a friendly coffee shop, the baristas friendly as they refilled their nearly empty coffee mugs. 

“Washington said he had an early consultation in his office till like seven. So if you’ll just help me open up?” 

“Yeah, no problem. What do you need me to do?” 

“ Just Lights and stuff. I'll straighten up the desk, if you wanna put the chairs out in rows.” 

Hamilton nodded, and got to work. The silence was companions, and he was a little surprised to discover that Laurens hummed as he worked. 

“What are you singing?”

“Just a song I've always loved. Reminds me of home.” 

Hamilton huffed out a breath as he moved a stack of chairs. “Thought you hated home?” 

“No. It's my dad I hate.” He slammed a filing cabinet drawer. “Fucking homophobic asshat.” Another drawer slammed open. “It's my siblings I miss.” 

“Siblings?” 

“Yeah, four of ‘em. Call Martha every night, keeps me up to date. She's basically Mom to those kids. I was Dad, before I left. Henry doesn't do much to parent.” 

He slumped in the office chair, and Hamilton laid a soft hand on his shoulder. “You needed to get out, nobody blames you for that.” 

“I know. I just wish I could get those kids out. Before Henry pushes too much of himself on those kids. Martha and I had Mom, but them? Once Martha goes to college.” He shuddered. Then, suddenly seemed to come to a realization, and shrugged Hamilton’s hand off.” 

“Dear God,” he buried his face in his palms. “Why am I unloading all this on you. We barely know each other!” 

Hamilton put both his hands on Laurens’ shoulders, squeezing. “Life's shitty, and we live together. The shits gotta come out sometime, right?” 

The bottom of Laurens unconfined hair brushed his palms, and tickled. It felt good, and the last thing he wanted to do. 

Laurens phone buzzed, a text from Washington. He was ready for Hamilton.   
Reluctantly letting go, Hamilton gave one departing smile to Laurens before entering the office.


	6. Chapter 6

Hamilton took a deep breath before entering Washington's office. He could tell he was bracing himself for the onslaught of Washington's personality, a terrifyingly paternal one. (Lafayette's words.)

He was surprised to find that he was not alone. Washington sat behind an impressively large desk glowering at Aaron Burr.The last person he had expected.

“Alexander, correct? Do come in, have you met Burr yet? A prospective law student, much like yourself.”

“Yes, Aaron and I share many a class.” The glare on Burr’s face was worth every awkward second. “Nice to see you again.”

“You too. As I was saying Washington, sir, your effort-”

“Thank you, Burr. I will contact you about the job soon.”

Burr took the hint, if not incredibly appalled. With one last killed glare at Hamilton he walked out the door.

“Burr? If you don't mind, please shut the door.”

The door slammed shut.

“Now, Mr. Hamilton,”

“Alexander, please.”

“Alexander. Laurens informs me that you wish to run for student council? And have my professor endorsement?”

“Yes, sir, even in the short time I've been here, I have noticed not enough rights for the ethnic, or LGBTQ+ people. There are unnecessary taxes on most of the student services, including room and board-”

“I am well aware of the issues on campus. What do you intend to do about them is the question.”

“I want to join student council. Petition the students to take back our campus, run it with minimal help from the Dean.”

Washington sat silently for a moment.

“Your reputation precedes you, Hamilton, but I must say, your talents would be more useful elsewhere. In the office, for example.”

“The office!” Hamilton protested. “Sir, I would be much more useful out there, on the front lines.”

“I'm afraid that position is unavailable. Do you want the secretary position or not?”

Hamilton mused. Student Council would be the most impressive thing for a transcript, but Washington was offering him a job. There wouldn't be many advancement, fewer opportunities. But it was still impressive. It was still paying, and looked decent.

“I'm not throwing away my shot,” Hamilton murmured to himself. And he wasn't. “I'll take the position.”

 

* * *

 

Laurens was on him the second he was out of Washington's office.

“Well? You running for Student Senate?”

“I, uh, no.” He hurried to amend the crestfallen expression on Laurens’ face. “I got a job here instead.”

“That's great! I think. It's not what you wanted though, sure you're okay with it?”

“It pays more than my current job, so yeah. I’m happy.”

“Alright. I'll text Lafayette and Mulligan. We’ll go out to celebrate tonight.”

“Sounds like a plan. Not like I've got a council proposition to write.” He smiled and laughed, trying to break Laurens from his funk. He didn't like seeing the usually upbeat man sad. For him, of all people.

“So, when do you start?”

“Tomorrow, after my last class. I'll be mostly doing late shift.”

“So we’ll be working together then.”

Hamilton's smile was genuine. Working here, with Lafayette and Laurens and Washington and Laurens was perfect.

“I, for one, can't wait to spend even more time with my roommate,” Hamilton ribbed.

“Damn straight. Now we can carpool.”

“Not with your shitty music. I'll just take the bus.”

Laurens poked him with an 'open’ sign. “Have fun with that. This morning is going to be the only time you want to ride the bus back to campus.”

“You would be surprised at my tolerance level. Maybe I'll get a car. I do have a license.” Hamilton finally ripped the open sign out of Laurens hands.

“Not an American one. Mind hanging that on the door outside?”

“Yeah, totally. See you tonight?” Hamilton grabbed his coffee mug off the counter.

“Tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm in love with all your kudos and comments. 
> 
> This one was very lyric central. Next will be more Mulligan the Momfriend and general Revolutionary Crew shenanigans. :)


	7. Chapter 7

_ <From: Lafayette> _

You going to be home soon? 

 

_ <To: Lafayette> _

I said five. Give a man a break.

 

_ <From: Lafayette> _

As it is currently five, I call bullshit. My evening begins as soon as you walk in that door. Hurry. 

_ <To: Lafayette> _

If you're so impatient you can pick out my outfit. OK? 

 

_ <To: Lafayette> _

Laf? You dead? 

 

Lafayette wasn't dead by any stretch of the imagination. He was having the time of his life tearing Hamilton's room apart. 

“What do you think of this Herc?” Hamilton heard as he entered the apartment. 

 

“Go for something with brown. Brings out his eyes.” 

 

“Like this?”

 

“Exactly like that.” 

 

Hamilton was now pushing past Hercules to get into is room and see what damage Lafayette had done. 

 

“You know I was just joking, right?” Hamilton said, staring at the destruction of his room. 

 

“I'll pick it up, don't worry.” He tossed two articles of clothing at Hamilton. “Put these on.” 

 

“You found my only pair of skinny jeans.” He said, dryly. “Congrats?” 

 

“I'm taking you shopping. All your clothes are from Target.”

 

“Target has great clothes.” 

 

“Yeah, no. Ever think about powdering your face?” Lafayette was still sizing him up. 

 

“No. No time, no interest. Now get out so I can get dressed!” He gave Lafayette a hard shove towards the door. 

  
  


God he hated these jeans. His last girlfriend had bought them for him, and he had never really worn them. Ever. Light jeans really weren't his thing. 

 

He had to admit it did look pretty good with the dark shirt. And it actually made him look like he had an ass. 

 

Lafayette was even willing to loan him a pair of heeled boots that actually made him a bit taller. 

 

“We’re meeting Laurens at the club.” 

 

“Club? I'm not 21, no way they let me in.” 

 

“It's mostly non alcoholic. One of the frats hosts it. They'll totally let you in. Especially if you're with us.” 

  
  
  
  


Lafayette wasn't wrong. They didn't even mention an I.D at the door. Just took five bucks and held the door open. 

 

Laurens was camped at a table in the corner, talking with a someone. 

 

Hamilton felt a hot flare in his chest, before he realized it was Burr. Then there was a different flare. 

 

“Hey.” 

 

“Hey.” And he was gone, disappearing into the crowd.  

 

“Burr really doesn't like me,” Hamilton sounded dejected as he sat next to Laurens. 

 

“It's okay.” A hand playfully slapped his thigh. “I like you.” 

 

Hamilton blushed, and was glad the club was dark. “Thanks. I like you a lot, too Laurens.”

  
  
  
  


Hamilton was sent for the first round of drinks, but didn't get far. A bubbly, brightly clad girl stopped him at the drinks counter. 

 

“Hello,” he said, smiling as their eyes met. 

 

The girl blinked once. And twice. “Hi, sorry. Usually a bit more verbose.” 

 

“You look like a woman who has never been satisfied.” 

 

“I-uh- what? Who are you to ask me that?” 

 

“Sorry. You just reminded me of myself. I've never been satisfied.” 

 

“Really?” 

 

“Well than Mr. Never-Satisfied, allow me to introduce myself. Angelica Schuyler.” 

 

“Alexander Hamilton.” 

 

“Nice to meet you Alex. You have family in town?” 

 

“My, uh, my family situation doesn't matter. It's what I'm here to do that's so important.” 

 

Angelica smiled. “you know? I think my sister's would love you. Wanna join us?” 

 

“I would love to.”

  
  
  
  


“Wow. Hamilton's really getting it on with Angelica.” Mulligan said. 

 

“I know,” Laurens groaned. 

 

“Jealous?” 

 

“What?! No! Why would I be jealous?!?” 

  
  



	8. Chapter 8

“So,” Lafayette leaned over the breakfast bar, “Saw you gettin’ it on with the Schuylers last night.” 

 

“Mostly Eliza. Pretty sure she invited me to dinner tomorrow, but she was under the table, so.” 

 

“Did you at least get the digits?” Lafayette passed Hamilton a coffee. “If not I'll be forced to disown you.” 

 

“Texting her right now, don't worry.” He looked at the clock. “Unless you're worrying about tardiness.” 

 

“Merde!” He scrambled for his keys, “Better not be seeing you for dinner tomorrow.” 

 

“You won't.” 

  
  


_ <From: Betsey> _

Did I invite you to dinner tomorrow night?

 

_ <To: Betsey> _

You did. Want to cancel? 

 

_ <From: Betsey> _

No. Drunk me is more confident. Still want it to be with my family? Last chance to back out. 

_ <To: Betsey> _

Dinner with the family sounds good. Way better than Laurens’ cooking. 

 

_ <From: Betsey> _

WARNING. My sisters are crazy. 

 

_ <To: Betsey> _

I think I can handle it. Especially where I grew up. 

 

_ <From: Betsey> _

Where DID you grow up? 

_ <To: Betsey> _

An orphanage in the West Indies. 

 

_ <To: Betsey> _

Another reason I don't deserve you. Or your crazy family. 

 

_ <From: Betsey> _

Alexander… 

 

_ <From: Betsey> _

You’re wrong. You are more deserving of my crazy family than any other. :) 

 

_ <To: Betsey> _

Because I was deprived as a child?

 

_ <From: Betsey> _

Exactly. 

  
  
  


Eliza’s family wasn’t as crazy as she had said. Her sisters were a little overwhelming; in that they flocked around him cooing. 

 

Mr. Schuyler picked them off, sending the three of them into the kitchen to watch the bread, and toss a salad. 

 

“That's right dad. Send the women into the kitchen while you and Alex here have the big Man Talk,” Angelica said, “Just because I have boobs doesn't mean that I can't talk politics.” 

 

Hamilton watched Mr. Schuyler roll his eyes. 

 

“If you have daughters, don't raise them as activists. It's terrifying.” 

 

“Hopefully by the time I have daughters they won't have to be activists for anything.”

 

Mr. Schuyler beamed. “That, my boy, is the perfect answer.”

 

“Thank you sir.” 

 

“I'm not normally a subtle man. I'm in politics, you see,” he laughed at his own joke. “Do you have any interest in dating daughter?”

 

“Sir?”

 

“I'm not one of those Dads against daughters dating. I have three. Dating and boys is normal. I just like to know their suitors.”

 

“Sir, I can assure you there is no malicious intent.” 

 

“I realize that. And please, it's Phillip. 

 

“Sir, Philip, your daughter is a lovely woman. All of your daughters are. But I cannot say for sure that I want to date Eliza. Unless she wants me.”

 

A head poked into the living room. “ I'll take you if 'Liza won't. Damn.” 

 

“Margarita!!” Mr. Schuyler looked mortified. 

 

“Dinner's ready.” She snickered. 

  
  


Dinner was as crazy as Eliza promised. Salad, bread, three courses. Full of politics, jokes, and banter. 

 

It felt like he had a family. 

 

And Hamilton loved it, and accepted an invitation to do it again next week. 

 

His night only improved when he saw a text from Laurens as he walked home. 

 

_ <From: John (the hot one) Laurens> _

  Text when you're on your way home. Bring leftovers. 

 

_ <To: John (the hot one) Laurens> _

        Coming back. Three Tupperware containers. 

 

_ <From: John (the hot one) Laurens> _

   I love you. You know that? 


	9. Chapter 9

Hamilton couldn't stop looking at that text. He knew full well that it was a joke. It had no meaning whatsoever, and it was obvious. 

He and Laurens were friends. Nothing more. Nothing less. The text meant nothing. 

Except it made Hamilton smile. On the shittiest of days it was a mere glance at the text and he was happy. Er. 

Like today. Double majoring and midterms are a horrible combination. Stacks of essays, impending tests and ever constant studying. 

And there was work. Which was good. Sort of. Washington let him do his homework during the down time. 

Plus. 

He worked with Laurens most nights. 

Plus. 

Charles Lee was always hanging around the office. 

Minus. 

Charles Lee was always hanging around the office and talking smack about Washington. 

Huge minus. 

Washington didn't believe him. Or he didn't care about Lee. Either way they were going into the Monmouth case (their biggest case yet) with a blind man at the helm. 

And Hamilton turned out to be right. He wanted to shout it at Washington. He was right. In the most horrible way possible. 

Charles Lee had shit the bed. Their case was in tatters, and Hamilton felt as if there was no way they could win this. 

Recess was called, and Hamilton bolted out of the room. Washington and King George's lawyers were disappearing into the judges chambers and Hamilton felt as if he couldn't breathe. 

He was so angry. He was so right. He wanted to take Charles Lee down, and he would. He would beat the living shit out of that smarmy—

“Alex!” Laurens voice broke through the fog. “What the hell?”

“I'm going to kill Lee.” He was still seething. Still breathing heavily. Still unable to see straight. 

“Honey,” and for the first time Hamilton realized that they were so close. That Laurens was practically hugging him. His heart started to beat a little slower. 

“Lee is just.” his protests were at half strength. 

“I know.” 

“I want to just smash his face in.” 

“You mentioned that.” 

Hamilton laughed, and reveled in Laurens laugh as well. Warm, and close. It already felt like home. 

It felt even better when tenderly, and carefully, Laurens pressed his lips against Alexander's. 

 

Lafayette walked in on the two of them curled up on the couch. He didn't say anything, just pulled put his phone. 

“Herc is going to flip.”

“What did Washington say?” 

“Not much. Lee had plenty to say. More Washington slander.” 

Laurens felt Hamilton bristle. He could practically hear the cogs turning, the revenge plot. 

“Alex. Baby. Stop overthinking.” 

“i just.”

“You will lose your job.” A pause. “But I might not.”


End file.
